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Ulys. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus:
There Diomed doth feast with him to-night ;
Who neither looks on heaven, nor on the earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On the fair Cressid.

Troi. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much,
After we part from Agamemnon's tent,
To bring me thither?

Ulyf. You shall command me, sir,
As gentle tell me, of what honour was
This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there,
That wails her absence ?

Troi. O, sir, to such as boasting shew their scars,
A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord ?
She was belov'd, the lov'd; she is, and doth :
But, still, sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.




Achilles' Tent.

Enter Achilles, and Patroclus. Achil. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow. Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.

Patr. Here comes Therfites.

Enter Therfites.
Achil. How now, thou core of envy ?
Thou o crusty batch of nature, what's the news?
* crusy batch]- loaf-botch.

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Ther. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of ideot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee.

Acbil. From whence, fragment ?
Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
Pair. Who keeps the tent now?
Ther. “The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound.
Patr. Well said, adversity! and what need these tricks?

Ther. Pr’ythee be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles' male ° varlet.

Patr. Male varlet, you rogue ! what's that?

Ther. Why, his masculinę whore. Now the rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o'gravel i’the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i’ the palm, incurable bone-ach, and the rivell d ' fee-simple of the tet. ter, take and take again such preposterous o discoveries!

Patr. Why, thou danınable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curse thus ?

Tber. Do I curse thee?

Patr. Why, no, 'you ruinous buit; you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no.

Ther. No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of * Neive filk, thou green farcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pester'd with such water flies; diminutives of nature !

Patr. 'Out, gall!

o barlot.

# The furgeon's box,]-quibbling on the word ten!.

P fue fimple)-perpetual p fefion. 9 discoveries !)-inventions.

gou ruinous' beet;]-shapeless mr.ass of discordant materials, con. fusedly run one into another. jeive]-tangled, ravelled; raw, unwrought. Oui, gall!]-Nut-gall-bitter lump.


Ther. 'Finch egg!

Achil My sweer Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle.
Here is a letter from queen Hecuba ;
A token from her daughter, my fair lobe;
Both taxing me, and ''gaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it:
Fall, Greeks & fail, fame; honour, or go, or stay;
My " major vow lies here, this I'll obey.-
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent;
This night in banqueting must all be spent.--
Away, Patroclus.

[Exeunt. Tber. With too much blood, and too little brain, these two may run mad; but if with too much brain, and too little blood, they do, I'll be a curer of madmen. Here's Agamemnon,-an honest fellow enough, and one that loves * quails; but he hath not so much brain as earwax : And the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, the primitive statue, and oblique memorial of cuckolds; ? a thrifty shooing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg,-to what form, but that he is, should wit larded with malice, and malice a forced with wit, turn him? To an ass, were nothing; he is both ass and ox: to an ox were nothing; he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care: but to be a Menelaus,~I would conspire against

"Finch egg! ]-Singing bird in embryo. ''gaging mel-holding me engaged.

major vow]-prior, fuperior obligation. quails;]-the wenches. yibe primitive fiatue, and oblique memorial]-the principal repre. sentative, and figurative monument-antique memorial.

? a Ibrifiy boving-horn)-a person, whom his brother frugally uses as his shoeing-horn, makes a mere tool of. forcid]- Ruffed, farced,

To be]Were I to be.


destiny. Ask me .not what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse of * a lazer, so I were not Menelaus.--Hey-day! "spirits, and fires ! Enter Heftor, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Neftor,

and Diomed, with lights, Aga. We go wrong, we go wrong.

Ajax. No, yonder 'tis.
There, where we see the light,

HeEt. I trouble you.
Ajax. No, not a whit.
Ulys. Here comes himself to guide you.

Enter Achilles.

Achil. Welcome, brave Hectur; welcome, princes all,

Aga. So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good night. Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.

Heat. Thanks, and good night, to the Greeks' general.
Men. Good night, my lord.
Heat. Good night, sweet Menelaus,

Ther. Sweet draught : Sweet, quoth a! sweet sink, sweet sewer. Achil. Good night, and welcome, both at once, to

those That go, or tarry: Aga. Good night.

[Exeunt Agam. and Menel, Achil. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed, Keep Hector company an hour or two.

Dio. I cannot, lord; I have important business, * The tide whereof is now.-Good night, great Hector. Hett. Give me your hand. to be]-if I were to be.

a lazer, ]-a leper. Spirits, and fires! ]—On secing the company advance with torches, The tide wherevj. is now.]" There is a tide," &c. Julius CÆSAR, A& IV. S. 3. Bru.


Ulyf. Follow his torch, he goes to Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company.

[To Troilus. Troi. Sweet sir, you honour me. Hea. And so, good night. Acbil. Come, come, enter my tent. [Exeunt severally. Tber. That same Diomed's a falfe-hearted rogue, a most.unjust knave; I will no more cruft him when he leers, than I will a serpent when he hisses : he will spend his mouth, and promise, 'like Brabler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretel it ; it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun borrows of the moon, when Diomed keeps his word. I will rather 3 leave to see Hector, than not to dog him : they say, he keeps a Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas his tent: I'll after.—Nothing but lechery! all incontinent yarlets !


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Enter Diomed.
Dio. What are you up here, ho ? speak,
Cal. Who calls ?

Dio. Diomed.
Calchas, I think. Where is your daughter ?

Cal. She comes to you.
Enter Troilus, and Ulyses, at a distance ; after them Tberfites.
Ulys. Stand where the torch may not discover us.

Enter Cressida.
Troi. Creflid come forth to him !
Dio. How now, my charge !
Brabler tbe bound; ]-that gives his tongue upon a false scent.

Brabling curs never want sore cars."' Proverb. I kave to Je]-lose the fight of.


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